


Changing Fate

by bluegoldrose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Marriage, Pre-Canon, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegoldrose/pseuds/bluegoldrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Rhaella Targaryen was always a good girl, always following her parents wishes, but she refused to marry Prince Aerys. She would rather defy her family than marry for the sake of a foolish prophecy. So she takes fate into her own hands, and chooses to seek another man to marry.</p><p>AU- Rhaella chooses to elope before her marriage to Aerys, changing the fate of Westeros forever. Each chapter after chapter one is a different man and a different outcome for Westeros.</p><p>Version 1: Steffon Baratheon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changing Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone!
> 
> This story is a set of AUs (though only one is written and one more is planned at this point) with the basis being setup in chapter one with Rhaella deciding to run away with another man before she is wed to Aerys. Each chapter past chapter one will be the AU with one specific man (Steffon Baratheon being the first choice and alternate version of history).
> 
> The starting point for the AUs is around 258 AC.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Princess Rhaella Targaryen would not be a pawn in her family's delusions. The moment she heard of her father's plans for herself and Aerys to wed she fought against it. She had pled her case to her mother, then to her grandmother the Queen, to her father, and then to her grandfather the King. Her pleas had all fallen on deaf ears. The only one who showed her any semblance of pity and understanding was her grandmother, though even she offered her no escape. “The Prince who is Promised will come from your union,” they all told her. She knew it was a lie. In her dreams she only saw fire and death. No dragons would be reborn from their union, just destruction.

So as the days drew nearer for her marriage, she planned her escape. Her parents had run away together, breaking their betrothal pacts. Her uncle Duncan had wed a commoner. Her uncle Daeron had rejected his betrothal. She could choose her own path. She could forge her own future.

Rhaella was to wed her brother, Prince Aerys, in a week. The castle was already teeming with relations and courtiers who would witness the ceremony. She felt as though she was drowning yet no one could see. She felt herself struggling to breathe every time she stood for her seamstresses as they made her gown. She couldn't do it. She had to escape.

The wedding was four days away when a mad idea came to her. It seemed unwise. It would likely fail, but she had to try.

She waited until the dead of night to put her plan into action. She slid out of her bed and dressed quickly in clothes she had prepared earlier in the evening. A dark dress, plain and unadorned, a dark hooded cloak, and sturdy boots. She slipped her dagger into her boot, just in case.

Ready, she walked to her fireplace and slid aside the panel which would open into the dark tunnels beneath the Keep and King's Landing itself. She stepped inside and slid the lever so that the wall would close again. She was enveloped in darkness. The only sounds were her breathing and the racing of her heart.

She stepped carefully along the way, a hand on either side of the tunnel. She could see nothing, though she could see a dull light somewhere ahead. She could hear nothing but her feet shuffling on the stone and her ragged breath echoing in the corridor.

The dim light grew slightly and she eventually reached the first slit in the wall which allowed light into the tunnel. She knelt down and there upon the ground was her leather satchel, just where she had placed it earlier that day. She pulled out a candle and lighted the wick with her flint. The spark caught and she was finally able to see her surroundings.

She fastened the satchel around her waist and continued on her way. She knew the distance she would need to cross to reach her destination. She had wandered these dark paths as a child, memorizing the winding corridors.

Once, as she walked across the length of the castle, she stepped into the normal passageway. She was in the proper building and on the correct floor. She returned to the tunnels, walked to the wall slit, and stepped inside.

The room was large for a guest chamber. Its furnishings were well made and it was typically used by guests of high position, which made sense given the occupant. She could see his form rise and fall beneath the coverings on the bed. The light filtering through the shutters was gray in the very early morning. She would need to act now or never.

She stepped closer to the bed, the ancient boards creaking softly beneath her feet. She could see the form of his face, peaceful in his slumber. Would he agree with her request? Or would he put her to shame? She placed her candle upon a table. Now or never, she took a breath and spoke his name.


	2. Running with Stags: Steffon Baratheon

“Steffon,” she whispered, her voice dry and cracking. He made no move. She tensed, steeling her nerves. She reached across the bed and touched his shoulder. “Steffon.” She managed to be louder the second time.

He stirred the third time she shook his arm and called his name. His eyes slid open, confused. When he finally realized that there was a woman beside his bed he bolted upright, pulling the coverlet close around his waist. The soft gold light of the candle stole across his bare chest, accentuating the hard lines of his body.

“Princess Rhaella,” he puzzled, his deep voice rumbling. “Why, how are you here? Is anything wrong?”

She forced herself to find her voice, trembling that she had dared to go so far. “I need your help, dear cousin.”

“Whatever you need, if it is within my power I will do it.”

“Anything?” She felt nowhere near as brave as she sounded. “Would you save me from the whims of my family?”

“What do you mean?” He shifted closer to her, pushing his hair out of his face, still scarcely awake.

“I mean my impending marriage. It is wrong, Steffon. I care not for their blind faith in false prophecies. I cannot abide this command.”

His gaze was hard, though kind. “What would you ask of me?”

“Marry me.” She nearly laughed that she uttered such a phrase.

He shifted away, shocked. “My lady, what you ask…”

“Is foolish and in direct violation of the King and Queen and my parents. Should that be of concern to me? Mine own parents were not meant to wed one another. None of our grandfather's children married as had been planned. Why must I be forced to carry on the vile practices of my House? Why must I do as they will?”

He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke again. “Why ask me this, my princess? I know that my parents had been considering my hand for Lord Estermont’s daughter.”

“We are close enough relations that I doubt they will disapprove long after it is discovered, should you agree with my request. I am a better match than a lesser lord’s daughter would you not agree? And… and you are pleasing to look upon, my cousin.” She could feel her cheeks flush with color though she doubted that he could see.

She could see his smile dimly in the low light. “When would you have me do this?”

“Now, we must away to the Sept of Baelor before any can see us if we are to do this thing.”

He bowed his head and then laughed. She jumped at the sound, fearful that they might be heard. “I will do for you as you have requested. But first tell me, how did you enter my chambers unnoticed?”

“I came through the walls,” she laughed. “Hurry my lord and we shall depart in a like manner.”

She stepped away from the bed, picking up her candle and walking toward the passage through which she had entered. He stood, moving aside the coverlet. She gasped and turned away, as she realized he was naked. He started laughing even as he walked to the chair where his trousers were laid.

“You come to my chamber in the dark of night and ask me to wed you. Then you gasp at my nakedness. Truly you are a maiden, my princess.”

She felt her face burning and was glad of the dark. “Of course I am!”

He laughed gently again, pulling on his boots. “And as pure a woman as a man could hope to desire. I only jest my lady.” He finished dressing in a matter of minutes, even securing a short sword around his waist and a black cloak across his shoulders.

When he joined her at the wall, she pressed the panel so that it opened for her.

He gasped at the sight. “You truly did enter through the walls.”

“The tunnels of Maegor the Cruel,” she told him. “They wind through the whole of the Red Keep and down into the city. No one knows how many miles of passageways there are. I try to avoid paths I do not know. We must be silent in the tunnels or someone will hear us.”

“Of course, my lady. Lead the way.”

With no further words they stepped into the passage and closed the wall panel behind them. They walked for nearly an hour through the long winding corridors before they reached a long abandoned rusty gate. Though it was unlocked, the gate only opened after Steffon rammed his shoulder against it several times. When it opened, they stepped into the grey light of morning, just before dawn.

They needed to climb down the cliffs upon which the Red Keep had been built. Steffon helped her every step of the way, even carrying her when needed. When they reached the streets, they were just to the south of the castle. They raised the hoods of their cloaks and walked quickly toward the Sept of Baelor.

Dawn was just breaking over the walls of King’s Landing when they finally reached the steps of the Sept. They entered quietly and found one of the chapels where common marriages were performed. A young man slept upon a rag mattress in a corner of the septry.

“We wish to wed,” Steffon boomed, causing the young man to bolt upright. Rhaella felt her heart stop briefly at the sound of his voice.

“Can, can I help you mister,” the boy said, stumbling over his words.

“We need a septon to perform our marriage,” he said again, in a quieter tone of voice.

The boy stood, straightening his dirty robes. “Of course, milord, right away.” A moment later he ran down the hall and vanished into one of the rooms.

She jumped at the weight of Steffon’s hand upon her shoulder. “All will be well, my lady.”

She turned to him, an anxious smile on her lips. “I want to believe that, but I fear.”

He placed his other hand upon her other shoulder, gentle but firm and reassuring. She looked up at him, for he stood more than a head taller than her. He was imposing, strong, and handsome, with kind, merry eyes. “I will marry you and protect you, my princess.” He bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He pulled away, and a moment later pressed a feather light kiss to her lips.

She trembled in his arms, and yet she laughed. “Thank you for your kindness to me.”

“It is my pleasure,” he said with both mirth and sincerity. “May I kiss you again? I would have the septon believe we bear great enough affection for one another that we must wed or face the wrath of the gods.”

She burst into laughter. “Yes,” she said when her giggles slowed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips firmly to his. He embraced her, and kissed her deeply. For a moment, she forgot everything but the sensation of his kiss, heighted by the fear and exhilaration of defying her family.

The sound of a throat clearing caused them to pull away from one another. A grey-haired, aged septon was standing beside the boy. Rhaella could feel herself flush red, yet again. “I can see why you arrived so early in the morning,” the septon croaked. “Unless it is wine which brings you here.”

“There has been no wine drunk, good septon,” Rhaella said softly, facing him. She pushed the hood of her robe down, revealing her silvery hair. “I come seeking a marriage which the gods will bless.”

“Princess,” the septon gasped, falling to his knees. The boy followed his lead closely.

“Will you do as we ask,” Steffon demanded. “We have no time for groveling.”

“Of, of course,” he stammered, waving his arms so that the boy could help him stand. “But... the King and Queen...”

“Want a marriage which the gods deem vile and unnatural,” Rhaella said. “You will bear no ill treatment from the crown, we swear it. Only let us wed.”

“And give us a room where we may be hidden for the day,” Steffon demanded. “We will pay well for food and watered wine as well.”

“As you wish, my lord, my lady,” the septon replied, fiddling with his robes and hair so that he might seem more presentable.

Shortly thereafter, he led them to a small chapel in the sept where the poorest of the people were wedded. He performed the ceremony, having Rhaella and Steffon say their vows in the Light of the Seven. Then he led them down to a chamber below the Sept proper. The boy had already brought bread, water, wine, and cheese to the room.

She laughed as the door was closed behind them. “Is this truly real?”

“Aye my bride,” he laughed, handing her a cup of water which she drank greedily. He sat upon the straw mattress, suddenly shy. “My lady, would that these events were not so rushed that we might be more at ease with one another.”

“We must consummate the marriage,” she murmured, setting the cup upon the table he had picked it up from. “I understand that, my lord.” Her back was turned to him as she pulled off her cloak and laid it upon a chair. Shaking, she pulled at the laces of her dress, allowing it to slide off her body when she was done. She turned to face him again, wearing only her under garments. “I chose you, my lord.”

He seemed entranced as she walked to stand before him. “My husband, I would have us be one.”

He spoke no words as he pulled her down and kissed her hard. He was both gentle and fierce, her husband. Even in the pain and fear of her first bedding, he was considerate. After they were bedded, they slept in a tangle of limbs, exhausted.

They awoke late after noon and refreshed themselves with the bread, cheese, and watered wine. They were reluctant to leave, but needed to face the King and Queen, as well as their own parents, soon.

“We could hide in the city for a few days,” Steffon said as he laced his boots. “If that is your wish.”

She shook her head, playing distractedly with the laces of her gown. “No, we must face them. Surely they must know we are missing by now.”

“Are you ready then?”

She stood from the bed, shaking. “As ready as I shall ever be.”

He pulled her into his embraced and kissed her atop the head. “We stand together now. I am your shield and defender, my bride.”

They walked out of their chamber and walked to the main halls of the Sept. With their hoods down, they drew murmurs from the crowds who were gathered to worship. They walked outside and were able to find a guard at the base of the steps which led from Visenya’s Hill to the City Square where the Street of Sisters and King’s Road crossed. The guard was quick to bow to them and to find an escort and horses for their return to the Red Keep.

They were brought directly to the throne room upon their arrival at the castle. Rhaella could feel her heart race at the sight of so many of their family gathered in one room. She held one hand at her chest while her other clutched Steffon’s with all her might. Their grandfather, King Aegon V, sat upon the Iron Throne. Their grandmother, Queen Betha, was seated at the base of the throne. Their other relations were seated or standing around the room. Prince Duncan with his Lady Jenny, and her hag of a woods witch. Rhaella’s parents and brother. Steffon’s parents, the Princess Rhaelle and Lord Ormund Baratheon. Also gathered were their distant cousins, sons and daughters of the King’s sister’s Rhae and Daella.

“Princess Rhaella, Lord Steffon,” King Aegon intoned. “You were both noted as missing this morning. Imagine our surprise when you were said to be travelling here from the Sept of Baelor, though your rooms are both locked.”

Steffon stepped forward, releasing her hand. He knelt before the King. “Your Grace, I must confess to you our actions. This morning, the Princess and I were wed.”

A collective gasp rose from the crowd. Rhaella stepped toward her husband, and held his hand as he rose to stand again. The murmurs of their family echoed in the vast hall.

“Rhaella, is this true,” her father, Prince Jaehaerys, asked.

A sudden fit of laughter overtook her. “Yes, father,” she felt a surge of wrathful joy. “I refused to marry Aerys. I begged. I pleaded. Yet my cries fell upon deaf ears. That witch Lady Jenny has brought to court would bring us death, not life. I have dreamed. I have dreamed of fires and the screams of our family. Every day since my betrothal was announced I have seen only death. Yet today, I wed Lord Steffon, and as we slept after our marriage was consummated I saw peace.”

“You... you...,” her father spluttered but could find no words.

“Peace, my son,” the King said. He stood and walked down the steps of the Iron Throne. “Come here child.” She stepped forward, Steffon walked forward with her, though as they neared Aegon bade him halt.

She stood alone with her grandfather the king, close enough that he might speak to her without being overheard. He rested his hands upon her shoulders, his expression so concerned that she wanted to cry. “Why did you withhold your dreams from me?”

“I was afraid,” she whispered. “I hoped that you would free me of my father’s wishes.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and whispered in her ear. “Your father listens to no one I fear. In the future you cannot withhold your dreams from me.” He pulled away, and spoke loud enough to be overheard by the rest of the court. “Understood?”

“Yes, your grace.”

He smiled faintly. “I commend you on your choice of husband.”

She bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“Steffon, come to me,” the King commanded. The Heir of Storm’s End was quick to obey. He held Rhaella’s hand again when they stood before their grandsire. “Some day you will be the Lord and Lady of Storm’s End. See that you uphold the honor of our House in all things, my children.”

“Always, your Grace,” they said as one.

* * *

Rhaella’s position in her family was mended easily with her mother and grandmother. Her father and uncle Duncan were slow to speak with her again for many long months. Princess Rhaelle and Lord Ormund Baratheon were quick to welcome her as Steffon’s bride. Aerys, to Rhaella’s surprise, found the entire situation humorous.

A year later, having moved to Storm’s End from King’s Landing, Rhaella gave birth to her firstborn. They named the boy Robert. A month later, Prince Aerys was wed to one of Princess Daella’s granddaughters, named Viserra. They would welcome their firstborn a year after their marriage, a girl who they named Aemma.

It was not long after Aemma’s birth that the Blackfyres would attempt another war on Westeros. Maelys Blackfyre, called the Monstrous, and his men took the Stepstones for their own. In response, King Aegon sent forth the armies of Westeros to remove the threat.

Prince Duncan and Prince Aerys would both go to war while King Aegon and Prince Jaehaerys remained in King’s Landing. Lord Ormund and Steffon Baratheon would join with them on the battlefield, so too would many lords and commanders from the Great Houses of Westeros.

The battle was won for House Targaryen and Westeros, with young Ser Barristan the Bold slaying Maelys the Monstrous. Yet victory met with tragedy, for Lord Ormund died in his son’s arms, and Prince Aerys fell in battle as well.

A year later they mourned again as Prince Jaehaerys fell ill and died.

In order to prevent an issue of succession upon his death, King Aegon declared that Princess Rhaella’s son, Robert, would be his heir. As a gesture of good will, Robert and Aemma were betrothed as infants, to wed when they were both of age.

Rhaella and Steffon would have five more children, three sons and two daughters, all of whom would grow to adulthood.

It came to pass that when King Aegon was well advanced in years that Rhaella came to him. He had not left his bed for over a month, and his eyes had grown beyond usefulness.

“Grandfather,” she said, loudly so that he might hear.

“My sweet Rhaella,” he rasped, “is that you?”

She sat beside him, holding his hand. “Yes grandfather. I wanted to tell you the good news, Princess Aemma is with child again.”

He smiled, the weathered lines of his face joyful. “This will be her fifth will it not?”

“Yes grandfather. Robert is hoping for a princess this time instead of another prince. Though I expect he shall delight in either.”

“Yes, yes I think he will.”

She hesitated, knowing there was more to tell him. “Grandfather, I dreamed again.”

He bowed his head, understanding. “What did you dream child?”

“I dreamed of dragons flying in the sky.”

“Dragons?” His voice filled with childlike wonder.

“I think that I believe the prophecy now. I think I understand. The song of ice and fire grandfather, that is the prophecy. We are considering a proposal for Robert’s eldest son, the Prince Rhaegar. Lord Rickard Stark’s eldest granddaughter is named Sansa, and we think that she would be a good match for Rhaegar.” She laughed lightly. “The proposal reminded me of the prophecies. Ice and fire grandfather, Stark and Targaryen, born of the line from myself and my brother. Perhaps Lady Jenny’s witch spoke the truth.”

The old king smiled in wonder. "Perhaps she did."


End file.
